Prickly
by Mad Server
Summary: Did somebody say poison?  Gen.


A/N: Who loves some plotless h/c? Ohhh, I love some plotless h/c. This is for Liafrombrazil, for all the times we dodged sneaky ouriços. Pretend he had breathing problems, Lia. After this. Bad reaction. Anaphylactic shock. Hospital. Sam KNEW he should have taken him in sooner. He feels so guilty. Also, PEOPLE WROTE ME BIRTHDAY FIC OMG. I don't think it's up yet. But it's there. PADavis, NewspaperTaxis, Miyo86, sidjack and Soncnica... good god you rock. Also, Enkidu07, I just really like you.

:::

"Hey. Is that...?"

"No. No no no."

Sam's close on Dean's heels, sprinting down the beach in the fading light. The object gets bigger, becomes definitely a set of clothes, then definitely a set of clothes on a body, then Dennis, floating face-down in the shallows.

Sam pulls up short as Dean sloshes ankle-deep into the water, in amongst the smooth black boulders that corral the corpse. Salty spray coats Sam's face, stings his eyes.

Scowling at Sam, Dean hauls Dennis face-up. "Son of a bitch. What's he doing here? He's supposed to be at home."

"Yeah. Beats me."

Dean's panting as he bends down and looks into the dead man's face. He touches the back of his wrist to his own mouth. "Damn it."

Sam shakes his head. "He went straight to her. He let her take him."

Dean pushes his hands through his hair, rubs his face. The last of the sunlight catches the raccoon patches around his eyes. He lets his arms fall against his sides with a slap. "Well, don't that take the cake." He starts wading toward Sam. "Guess we're done here."

He trips, stumbles and splashes down on his hands, ass in the air, and then he's rearing up, bug-eyed, charging out of the water. Sam touches his gun, in the back of his pants. Dean's hands are streaming red.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, hey. Easy." Sam scans over the water as he's reining in Dean by his sleeve. "Hey, calm down. Let me see that."

Dean's palms are a meaty mess, long dark splinters sticking out. Nostrils flaring, he glares out at the ocean.

"Yeah. I think I know what that is. Wait here." Sam lets go of him and trails a receding wave down to the sea. He hops up on a rock and peers in, then crouches down for a better look. "Uh huh. So, there's good news and there's bad news."

"What's the bad news?"

Sam straightens up, scans over his pale brother. "Other than the fact that you just bled at a crime scene? You've been poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Dean shakes his hands out beside him with a wince. "What the hell was that?"

"Sea urchin." Sam points at Dean's torn jeans leg, the blood streaming from his ankle. "Actually a lot of sea urchins."

"Damn it."

"Burns, huh? I wiped out on one once, when I was surfing."

"Surfing?" Dean raises an eyebrow, mouth quirking. "You?"

"Stanford. Most of the time I worked hard. Some of the time I played hard."

Dean snickers until he's coughing into his elbow. "Oh, man. Was that the good news?"

Sam brushes past him, starting toward the car. "No. The good news is you're probably not gonna die."

:::

"I feel like crap."

"Yeah. Hold still." Sam drags his eyes off the slow-ass taillights in front of him and brushes quick fingers to Dean's cheek, his forehead. "You got a pretty good dose."

"Can I take my hands out of this bucket now?"

"How long's it been?"

Dean bends forward in the passenger seat, squinting at the stereo display. "Ugh. Think I'm gonna barf."

"Huh." Sam spares him another glance, starts watching for a turnout. "Highway One is not the greatest place to get sick, dude."

Dean cautiously raises his head. "Nah. I'm good. False alarm."

Sam checks the Impala's clock, adds the hour and seven minutes it's off, then subtracts. "Twenty more minutes."

"Mmh." Dean melts into the leather padding and closes his eyes. "I hate today."

"I know, man."

The car ahead of him rides its brakes down a hill, hugging the side of the cliff. Sam sighs and flashes his brights.

:::

"Lie down."

Dean does, planting his ass carefully on the mattress and then inching down onto his side, like he's docking a spaceship. "Fuuuuck."

Sam dumps the pink lukewarm water down the bathroom sink, wets a cloth and brings it out to Dean.

"Fuck are we?"

"Santa Cruz. Here." He smoothes the rag over Dean's forehead, moulds it to his temple.

"Nng." Dean blows out a long breath through his nose. "How many miles is that?"

"It's far enough, man. I scrubbed the crime scene. No one's gonna think to look for us for awhile, if they ever do. Just take it easy."

Dean sniffs, then peels open an eye. "So now you're gonna get this crap outta me, right?"

"That's the plan." Sam fishes tweezers out of the first aid kit, lays a towel under Dean's dripping hands. He frowns at the fresh blood on his brother's palms. "This is definitely gonna hurt."

:::

"I can't believe Dennis didn't wait for us," Dean mumbles into his pillow as Sam lathers shaving cream over his hands and ankle. He's had four and a half Tylenols, so he barely twitches as the substance comes into contact with his open wounds.

"I guess he wanted to save his family."

"But we were gonna save his family. All of his family."

Sam picks up the razor, pats his brother's knee. "I know. But he wanted to be sure."

"He let her kill him." Dean's eyes are red and puffy, exhausted from the hard week. "He was safe, and he went to her."

"He loved his kids." Sam cradles Dean's hand in his, shaving at the pedicellarines where they cling to him, still pumping in toxins. "He didn't know us."

"Now they have no dad." Dean's lips quiver and he sniffs once, hard. "Sam. They have no dad."

"I know, man." Sam shifts the cloth to the back of his brother's neck. "It's okay. They'll be okay."

"How can anybody be okay with no dad?"

Sam grips his arm, runs a gentle thumb over the soft inner skin. "Hey. I'm here."

Dean looks at him with huge eyes.

"I got you, kiddo."

They're quiet, after that, until Sam soaps up his cloth and starts lathering down the wounds. Dean's creaky voice drifts up from the mattress and Sam's hands slow down.

"They're both ghosts now. D'you think they're together?" Dean gazes up at him, stoned. "Think they'll all be together again some day?"

:::

end


End file.
